“C’mon Karen, I’ll be nice to her. Hell she’s a beautiful girl; you know my weaknesses for pretty blondes. I’ll be nice,” I told her, as I climbed into my 924. The poor man’s Porsche.
She leaned into the car and looked surprisingly sober. “Ok, but I’m serious. She’s really insecure and could use some support. Try hard. Believe me, I’ll make it worth your while,” she made her meaning abundantly clear by reaching in and giving my latest erection, well into it’s 5th hour now, a squeeze. (Ok, maybe not quite a continuous erection, but it sure as hell seemed like it.)
I decided I could play the gentleman, so I stopped for some gifts, a bouquet of mixed flowers, and two perfect roses, one red and one yellow. I also bought an expensive bottle of champagne, which was pretty extravagant. Ok, so it was on the verge of stupid, a bottle of Dom Perignon, my first.
Even though it was my house, I decided to knock on the door. I had seen Karen’s car downstairs so I knew she had beaten me there. I had expected as much.
The door opened a crack, allowing me a momentary view of deep blue eyes, and platinum blonde hair, and little else. The door closed and the chain was removed. When the door reopened I was rewarded with one of the most exciting views I had every seen in my life.
Debbie stood there, her long hair swept to one side, dressed in an apron, with a white teddy underneath it. Debbie was a fan of the tanning beds, and her skin was a warm bronze. The contrast between the white hair and teddy, and her incredible tanned figure, tantalizingly hidden by the apron, was breathtaking.
I stood spellbound for several seconds. Finally I could breathe. “My God! You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” Her makeup, which normally seemed to come from the Tammy Baker School of Beauty, was subtle and enhancing. She smelled intoxicating. She looked a little scared and nervous.
“Is that him?” Karen yelled from the back.
“It’s me.” I answered, louder than necessary as she entered the room, in a black teddy with red trim, and a matching camisole. “Well, if you don’t look gorgeous!” I told her as she stood next to her friend.
“Flowers? How sweet,” Karen added, taking the bouquet from my hand.
“Yep, that’s for the table, and these,” I pulled the two individual roses from the bag with the champagne, “are for you lovely ladies.”
I held the yellow rose out to Karen, “Yellow for friendship?” she asked as she took the offered gift.
“Yep. And red for the lovely Debbie.” Debbie flushed prettily, and Karen arched her eyebrows at the implication. Debbie had not spoken a word since I’d arrived. I was wondering just how nervous she was.
“There’s no thorns on this one…” Debbie noted, observing that I had broken off each and every one.
“Of course not. Would I take a chance that anything I did hurt you?” I smiled my best disarming, charming smile.
“What smells so delicious?” I asked, sniffing the air, as I stepped inside, headed for the kitchen. I was going to place the bottle in the fridge.
The kitchen was spotless. The counters were clear; the dishes all put away. My usual clutter was all set aside. I opened the refrigerator to see it had been cleaned as well. Someone had been hard at work. I removed the bottle from the bag and surreptitiously placed in on its side on the bottom shelf.
“I… I’m not much of a fancy cook, I just made a roast,” Debbie answered, apologetically.
“Did Karen tell you that’s my favorite? I just love a good roast. It smells incredible. Man I’m starved.” I really was, I had skipped lunch, too busy in the men’s room.
Karen took me by the arm, “You have to see what this crazy girl has done,” she said leading me to the living room. Debbie followed closely on our heels.
I was given a tour of my own place. Every room was immaculate, the bathroom was the cleanest it had been in the 18 months I’d lived there. The bedroom was organized, things put away, and the bed was made with new sheets, turned down on both sides. The sheets were not mine. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble.
Karen talked incessantly praising Debbie’s work, while we did the tour. Debbie hung back; I believe she was embarrassed by the attention.
There was still a huge amount of tension in the place, and I wanted to do something about that. I lead the ladies back to the living room, and then I guided Debbie to the couch, where I sat beside her.
“Debbie. You have done a wonderful job here. I can’t believe how nice you’ve made it look so fast.” I waited for her to comment but she just looked down.
“Debbie, are you afraid of me?” I asked her.
“She’s not afraid she’s…” Karen butted in.
“Karen, do me a favor. Pour us all some drinks, and please be quiet for just a few minutes. If Debbie and I are going to be roommates some day, we’ve got to work something out.” Karen took the hint, and stepped to my makeshift bar in the dining room.
“Debbie, are you afraid of me?” I asked her again.
“No. I’m just… I don’t know,” she was whispering.
I reached out and tilted her head up to look at me. “Debbie, you are one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen. I want this to work out so bad it makes my teeth ache. If I can buy the house, and get it livable, I’m going to invite Karen and Ashley to live with me. You’ll be welcome as well.”
I reached across and gave her a small kiss on the lips. Her eyes teared up. “Debbie, I’m not going to make you do anything. If we’re going to be living together, we have to be comfortable together. Karen and I have this already. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I’ll do whatever you want,” she said so softly I could barely make out the words.
“Please relax, and let’s just enjoy a dinner together, we can talk about anything except sex. Tonight I’ll be sleeping with Karen. You I won’t touch. You can stay with us, here tonight, and in the house when we move in. We’ll all have our responsibilities around the house. But yours will not include being my sex slave. I will not touch you unless you want me to. Not because I don’t want to, I do, I mean I really, REALLY do. But I want us all to be happy. Not just me.”
She leaned against my hand, holding it to her face. “I can make you happy. I can,” she told me anxiously, with a frightened little girl look on her face, scared to death of rejection.
I don’t know who had hurt this girl, or how. I was afraid she was seriously damaged goods. This could be a really bad situation. But as great as the challenge seemed, to a 23-year-old young man, the reward seemed far greater. Not understanding failure, I was going to try to make this work.
“I know you can.” I told her, pulling her close and stroking her hair. She shivered under my touch. Karen had seated herself on the far side of Debbie, and placed three drinks in front of us. Looked like gin and tonics.
“The best way you can make me happy is serving me up some dinner. I am famished, and everything smells so good.”
It was like I had hit a switch. Debbie jumped up and went to the kitchen. Now she was finally talkative. “It’s going to take at least five minutes. You guys enjoy your drinks while I ready the meal. Just give me a sec.” It seemed like her homebody persona was a comfortable one for her. That, I was guessing, would be the bridge to everything else if this were to work out.
“That was nice,” Karen told me softly, as she scooted over next to me.
“Baby, I’ve had a hard-on since I got up this morning. Seeing you two in these outfits hasn’t helped,” I reached out and touched the exposed side of her breast. “I’ll tell you what would be nice. Helping me relax before dinner.”